I didn’t know how to treat the spirit. As a little girl, or something else? She looked human. Every part of her face, her eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, her nose, mouth, skin, her hair, her forearm, her fingers, nails… They could pass as human. But as clearly demonstrated before, she was not. She wasn’t quite a spirit either, however. She could hold things. She can be pushed. And, she could not disappear. Could I treat her like any other animal? Was it okay for me to touch her? Would there be any harm to me? Or to her? I could not remember if I did make contact with her on the first night. It was a bit of an oversight not to have thought about this back then.
My first thought was to bathe her, even if it wasn’t a pressing matter. Aside from her clothes, she was not filthy. Nor was she rancid smelling. Her skin was delicately smooth and pristine. Not even a single hair on her forearms. Comparing it to mine, her skin was a paler white and a perfectly consistent complexion. Though she was thin, I could not find a single vein in her arms. Still, she was a wild creature. I did not imagine she had ever bathed before, and prepared myself to do it. Even though she gave me permission to touch her, I was still wary. She nodded intently when I asked if I could help her undress, seeing her struggling to get her arm out. I squatted down and held on to her sleeve, which was tight along the trim, as I gently slipped her arms out. Then I did the same with the other side, leaving the top of her dress peeled open, hanging around her waist. In a brief moment of hesitation, I wondered if she could touch water. What about soap, for that matter? She had a physical body, but could it dissolve on contact? Before I moved on, I prepared a bucket, dipped a sponge into it, and lightly rubbed my forearm as she was crouched down beside me. When I pointed at my arm, asking if she could do the same, she dipped her entire arm into the bucket and started to mimic me. I suppose that was a yes.
I decided, just in case, I would not use soap this time. As she played around with the bucket of water, I searched through a brittle trunk stored in Father’s old room, pulling out articles of clothing I wore as a little girl. I settled on a white nightgown; simple, with very little embroidery; just some ruffles at the end of the sleeves and the skirt. It had aged a bit, gaining a hint of yellow. Flapping it out on the mezzanine balcony, I reasoned it was clean enough to use, given how little the spirit paid attention to her hygiene anyway. In the bathroom, I slipped down the rest of her dress, revealing her petite beige bloomers that were indeed very filthy. Though they only came down to her knees, they looked soiled with mud and other plant sap she must have walked through. Looking closer at her skirt, it shared similar stains, though the dark beige hid them better. When I took off her shirt, I saw her chest was eerily flat, a betraying feature of her body. The contours were there, but there were no buds to her flowers. It made me wonder whether her body was a mimic of ours. As I lifted her by the armpits into the bathtub, I guiltily dropped my eyes for a brief moment. It was also flat down there. I puzzled over whether she even had a gender.
The rest of that afternoon went by quickly. Soon, it was night, and we sat at the table once more. I prepared some porridge for myself, and asked if spirits like her needed to eat. She nodded eagerly, so I ended up splitting some of my meal with her. As things wound down for the night, I sat in the drawing room reading the daily paper I brought back from the market. The spirit sat down on the couch, next to me, perhaps not knowing anything better to do. She clutched the same flower in her hand and blankly stared forward in the direction of the fireplace. I wondered what she was doing. Abbey paid a short visit once again, jumping up onto the couch with us, but this time, the spirit held her ground. As the cat curled up next to her, wedging the spirit between Abbey and me, her muscles tensed up, her hair seemingly rising like needles, ready to jump. But she did not move, and I felt her gradually squash her little body up against me, digging my arm into my ribs as it edged away from the cat. Abbey paid no heed and settled in for a nap.
Before we retired to bed, I warned her to hide tomorrow, before noontime. Jane would visit for tea then. She patiently nodded as I tucked her in for the second time on the floor of Father’s room. The spirit fell asleep just as instantly as the night before. I went to bed shortly after.